


What’s a Little Monologue?

by writesaboutboys



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesaboutboys/pseuds/writesaboutboys





	What’s a Little Monologue?

 “So, you’re like this thing, right?”  Harry nods, curls tickling Nick’s collarbone. “Right, I’m this thing.”

“Exactly. So you’re like this thing, okay. And it’s like; it’s a thing I want out of my head, out, out, out. But it’s persistent to stay. Like I’ve taken the [pesticide](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33587722299/whats-a-little-monologue) to it already, but it refuses to go away.” Harry cuddles further into Nick’s lap. “’S sounds kinda rude, innit?” His voice is so muffled and utterly wrecked, Nick couldn’t help but laugh (it was more of a giggle, really), because that was his doing.

“It probably is, but it’s  _true_. And like, you’re this fucking nuisance. But I keep you around, so it’s a good kind of nuisance, I reckon. But a nuisance, nonetheless. But it’s kind of like this unrelenting beating in my head and it feels like I’m hung over most of the time. Or high, that’s probably more fitting. But, it never stops because you’re  _always there_.”

“’S why you love me?” Harry interrupts in Nick’s shoulder blade, this time. “I would imagine so.” Nick smiles down at Harry kissing him on top of his head before continuing, “And, like sometimes, when I’m done fucking you into the [mattress](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33587722299/whats-a-little-monologue),” Harry giggles and Nick rolls his eyes because what a  _fucking teenager_. “And we fall asleep, in the morning I want to just be like ‘get the fuck out’ but I can’t, because before that happens I always do the wrong thing and look at your face. And you look like some fucking angel or something and your halo is your stupid mess of curls. And you’re always laid out on [the mattress](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33587722299/whats-a-little-monologue), like spread eagle. And it takes up most of the bed and it should be this fucking irritating thing that should make me want to throw you out with the trash, but it’s not. I remember when I first met you, at some awards show I don’t even remember the name of. You were so bright and so full of life. And I remember thinking to myself ‘that kid is gonna go far’ and it amazes me, really, because look at you know. Mr. International-pop star cuddling with his Z-lister boyfriend. And that kinda irks me too, y’know. The way you can literally have  _anyone_  and you chose me. Little ol’ Nicholas Grimshaw, host of a [radio show](http://fuckoffgallagher.tumblr.com/post/33587722299/whats-a-little-monologue), for fucks sake. I will never get it, I don’t think.”

“You’re better than all those A through Y-listers, Grimmy.” Harry mumbles into Nick’s bicep (and it seems like he’s getting lower at every interruption). And it makes Nick smile, because it’s such a Harry thing to say. “Thanks, babe.” He replies, kissing Harry on the cheek this time, having to crane his neck to reach. “So, I remember when you were with Louis and you came to my flat in tears because he was out with that bird. What was her name, Ellie?” “Eleanor.” Harry states into Nick’s chest (and yes, he is definitely getting lower). “Right, whatever. So you came here in tears and you told me what happened. And I remember that was one of the first times I wanted to fucking punch Tomlinson’s face in.” “We don’t have to talk about him or her. Can we just talk about us, yeah?” Harry asks and his voice is so pleading. Like, he doesn’t want to revisit that part of his life. And that’s fine with nick. “Right, okay. Yeah, okay. But, I remember when you first went out for drinks with us, Aimee, Annie, Henry, Gellz, Rita, Pixie, Lou and Sam. And like, you got so pissed it was laughable really. And like you were draped all over Pixie and your head was almost dipped into Annie’s chips and-” “Does this have a point?” Harry grumbles from somewhere over Nick’s waist.

“Yes it does and I-” “Can I give you a blow job?” Harry interrupts mouth on top of Nick’s crotch. “No, Jesus Christ Harry, I’m trying to tell a story.” Harry huffs before climbing back on top of Nick’s chest. “Sorry, babe. Go on.” Harry murmurs before kissing Nick’s left nipple. A shudder goes through Nick’s body before he continues, “Right. As I was saying, you were completely sloshed. And there’s something really pretty about you when you’re good and wasted. Cheeks flushed, curls awry, lips a pretty cherry red, pupils dilated, dimples all extra deep and what not; reminds me a little like how you look after a proper fuck. And I think I was in love with you at that point, a bit. Then you asked me to dance and Aimee and Rita still take the piss about the way I blushed at a fucking 17 year old asking me to dance. And now it’s almost a year later and I still don’t understand how you walked through the door which is my life, locked the door, and lost the key. But honestly, I wouldn’t trade it.”

“Do you remember when you told me you thought you were in love with me? And then I puked because we were out drinking the night before then you ignored me for the rest of the day because you thought it was because of what you said when it really wasn’t.” Harry chuckles into Nick’s chest. “Yeah, I remember I sat in front of you when you were on the couch and I was like ‘I think I’m in love with you’ then you ran away and was sick. And you ambushed me in the kitchen and like, attacked me with those pink clouds on your face.”

“You really are beautiful, you know that, right?” Nick mumbles in Harry’s curls. Harry doesn’t answer just huddles more closely to Nick’s body (and Nick didn’t think that was possible). “You have an amazing personality, love. Like you honestly love people. Like all kinds, no matter the gender or age or anything stupid like sexualities or whatever; which is why I don’t get why you like me, seeing as I hate 80% of people everywhere. But, it’s nice.”

“One day ‘m gonna sing to you.” Harry mouths at Nick’s shoulder (moving up this time). “Is that so, poppet?” Harry grins into the meaty muscle at Nick’s shoulder and, “Yeah, ‘n you’re gonna love it ‘n you’re gonna fall in love with me again. Just wait.” Nick’s hmm’s into Harry hair, “You have this thing about you, y’know?” “I thought I was a thing.” “Well, yeah you are. But there’s like this thing with you, okay. And like you carry this positive energy around with you. And it’s like a spell, right. And when you flash your dimples at someone they automatically fall in love with you. That’s why everyone loves you it’s the dimples” “And the curls!” Harry adds. “Right and the curls. But those are an accessory spell. So like if the dimples don’t work-which they always do-then you whip out that hair shake-y thing. And no one is immune to that. No one, I tell you. And then pair that with that shit eating grin you wear all the time with how nice and good of a person you are with how fucking fit you are-oh and the green eyes-well man oh man, I feel sorry for anyone who has to cross paths with you.” And Harry laughs one of those cackle loud things that make Nick want to shut him up in a jar and have him as a keepsake.

“Sometimes when you laugh like that I wanna wrap you in a bundle of blankets right, and like shut you in a jar. So whenever I feel bad, I’ll just open it up and you’ll laugh for me.” “’S kinda weird, you think?” “Probably, but the best medicine is Harry Styles’ laugh, I declare it.” Harry giggles into Nick’s neck and Nick can feel the vibration in his throat.

“I can go for a bit of a smoke.” Harry states looking at Nick expectantly. “You can, ‘m a bit tired.” Nick yawns curling a hand in Harry’s curls. “You’re old.” “’M not.” “I know.” “You better.” “I do.” “Good.” And Nick pulls Harry down to meet him a soft kiss. Harry’s lips mold into Nick’s as his whole body melt into his touch. Harry eases is tongue past Nick’s lips with no problem. And they’re play a little game of tongue wrestling (Nick wins, it would only seem fitting). Nick pulls back abruptly giving Harry a quick peck on his kiss bruised lips.

“I love you.” Harry sighs into Nick’s collarbone (the kid won’t just stay still). “I know. I love me too.” “You’re horrid.” “’S why you love me?” Nick asks mimicking Harry’s question from earlier. And Harry just smiles, because “Yeah, I would imagine so.”


End file.
